Critical Condition
by Dewey'sGirl
Summary: Ziva's in a car accident, and the team reflects on their relationships with her and life without her...


CRITICAL CONDITION. rated T.

5 and a half hours of NCIS with my friends, then seeing the photos of my Roller skating coach's car after it was totalled by a drunk 18 yr old with three open bottles of bourbon the back seat, then hearing this song everyone's been talking about but I'd never heard until today… anyway, this is the result.

Oh, and I didn't know Ziva's middle name, I'm even assuming that Israelis use middle names, so I picked an Israeli name I liked. I know nothing of comas and coma treatments, despite spending an hour researching on the net, so I apologise in advance for any inconsistencies or mistakes. Also, I'm an Aussie, so I've tried to use American words and spellings since it's an American show, but I trip up often… This is my first posted fanfic, so comments and constructive criticism encouraged.

It didn't seem fair. Jenny knew that life wasn't fair, but it still didn't seem right. THIS didn't seem right. THIS was unnatural. Ziva Mahalia David lying still as death in ICU, her hands gently curled on the sheets, not clutching a gun as per her usual sleeping arrangement. What was even more unnatural was that it was a stupid little boy whose stupid cashed up father had bought him more car than he could handle that had gotten her here in the first place. She was a Mossad agent. She had survived beatings, assassination attempts, broken hearts and killing her beloved brother. Hell, she survived Cairo without a scratch while Jenny had almost died. WOULD have died, if not for Ziva. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair, and she supposed death wasn't, either.

Ducky was focusing on the machinery surrounding Ziva, keeping her alive, willing the heart rate monitor to beep one more time, and one more, and one more. He tried to pretend that she was just another patient, just another job. But he couldn't. Seeing Jethro in the ICU had been bad enough; at least he had looked as though he belonged there, his body broken and bruised by the shrapnel. Apart from the bandage on the left of her forehead, she nearly looked asleep. But he couldn't let that fool him, he reminded himself. The damage was internal, inside her head, her brain swollen and battered, and while the doctors had done what they could… he sighed, wondering where she would be buried- in Israel, where she'd been born, with the rest of her family; or in America, where he could at least visit her grave, and talk to her there. He would miss their talks… But again he was fooling himself, he smiled. This was Ziva. The fight wasn't over until it was over…

Tony walked into the room, and for a moment it spun. He shook his head, willing the world to right itself again, but even though his head (and his breakfast) soon settled, he couldn't fix the world. He knew that. He had tried once before, when Kate had died. He had lain awake at night in bed listening to the rain fall, willing Kate to call or burst into his room like she had in Cuba… sat back in his chair with his eyes on the elevator willing it to ding and open its doors to reveal her. But it never did, and they had to bury her. He felt a slow trickle down his face. He couldn't bear to bury another partner, especially not Ziva, not in this way. She'd have wanted to go down fighting, not jammed between a tree and a stupid little kid, a stupid little kid who was down in the emergency room right now whining about the stitches in his chin. He slowly made his way over to the bed, and leant over her, checking that she was still alive, that the stupid beeping wasn't lying. A tear trickled off the end of his nose and splashed her cheek. What scared him the most was that she didn't respond, not even to tell him to grow up and stop being a baby. He thought of the song he was listening to when he got the call. Something about Times Square shining brightly, no matter what the distance I'll be there for you, I'm by your side… it's what you do to me…the song was driving him nuts.

It was the tears that scared Tim. If Tony was crying, there was obviously something to cry about. As much as he hated the torment, he respected the older agent. All right, maybe even looked up to him. The fact that he was upset now was definitely telling. Tony wasn't even scared of going to see Kate when she was… with Ducky. After Ari had… Tony moved to the other side of the bed, where there was a chair, and Tim saw why Tony was so upset. Seeing Kate was horrible, but it was definitive; she had been dead. They couldn't change that, but they hadn't had to wait for an outcome then, either. Right now, there was nothing that they could do, any of them; all they could do was wait. He wasn't sure what was worse- knowing that the person you loved was doomed, or waiting to see if they would be doomed. He thought back to the first day she had arrived. He had had hopes of Tony leaving him alone in favour of the new Probie; but no, he was still Probie, and probably always would be. But still, she had taken his side against Tony often, she had no loyalty to one or the other but took sides inconsistently… he felt like someone had punched him, and he felt sick for thinking like that. Of course she had had loyalty to them, to both of them. She had their back, always… and he could do nothing to help her now, even though she'd helped him so often before. Suddenly he remembered waking up to find his head stuck to his desk, and Ziva grinning at the computer, trying to look innocent. He missed her… he realised that he was thinking as if she was already dead, and again, felt sick at himself.

Abby walked into the room and straight into Tim's arms. She needed comfort and reassurance and Gibbs wasn't there right now. Tim held her tightly, as if she were Ziva and he was willing her to stay with them, like if he held on tightly enough she couldn't leave. Abby remembered how her and Ziva's relationship had started; she had despised this… thing… that came into her lab, into their bullpen, into Kate's spot… like it was nothing, like it had meant nothing, like she was trying to replace Kate. And the way Timmy had fawned over her, like she was the best thing on this earth. Well, obviously he had been wrong. 'Cause now she was in hospital, all battered up inside, Ducky had said. She hadn't wanted to see Ziva vulnerable; not physically, anyway. She and Ziva had become so close that Abby had even offered to listen if she wanted to talk about Lt Sanders. (Abby had a sudden terrible thought; Ziva had loved him… what if she chose to be with him instead of them?) Ziva never took her up on the offer. To see Ziva vulnerable, when she tried so hard to hide it, seemed like a betrayal. Ducky had assured her that Ziva hardly looked hurt at all, just a little bandage on her head. And so Abby had come to see her, to talk to her, to plead. She inched forward, closer to the bed. She couldn't bring her voice to more than a whisper.

"Please Ziva, not you too."

Gibbs burst into the room, completely disregarded everyone else, and turned to the 18 yr old behind him. "See this, smart ass?' he growled. The older man behind him opened his mouth to speak, but Gibbs continued. "See what you did, you irresponsible, thick little boy? Still worried about the stitches in your chin and the insurance, eh?" he glared at the boy. "Agent Gibbs," interrupted the man behind the boy, but Gibbs ploughed on anyway. "If she doesn't wake up, you know what's gonna happen, punk?" The kid was actually quivering. "You'll have killed a federal agent, a federal agent who isn't even ours. You know who she is, kid? Her dad's head of the Israeli intelligence agency. Think how much our government will want to keep him happy. Think about how badly her daddy will want to hurt you." The kid was shaking pretty badly now. "Get out of my sight". With a glare at Gibbs, the kid's dad led him away. Jenny was the first to speak. "Her father's deputy director, not director, Jethro." "I don't care Jen." Gibbs roared. "It doesn't matter, if she dies I'll kill the kid anyway. 'It was an accident.' Shoulda thought of that before he got into the damn car pissed. Idiotic kid." He stood next to the bed, and hissed at DiNozzo, who dutifully got out of the chair, and, glancing meaningfully at everyone else in the room, left. They all got the message and followed suit.

Gibbs breathed in and exhaled deeply. His emotions were confusing him, and he had thought that seeing her would help. It hadn't. He knew where the anger came from; that it was her and not that dumb kid currently laying in the hospital bed, and that, regardless of what he had said, the kid would probably get off with a slap on the wrist. He wasn't sure how he felt about her. She was one of his agents, and every time he looked at her he had to remind himself of that; he was still a soft old chauvinist at heart, and he had to force himself to put her in danger so that she was capable of doing her job, and he still hated doing it, putting a woman in harms way. But she was capable, and it wasn't her job that had hurt her. It was something that he couldn't have protected her from, and that also angered him. There wasn't any bad guy to blame, no one to hunt down and kill, just a stupid little kid, one who had gone to pieces at the consequences of his actions. He remembered how she'd shot her brother to protect him; she was a friend, despite the times he had questioned her and her loyalty to Jen, a very close and dependable friend, more than he would ever admit. They knew things about one another that no one else knew, and they kept those secrets. And the night she had helped him to regain his memory, the night she had sobbed in his arms. She had reminded him of Kelly when she fell off her bike, when she'd fallen out of the tree, when he'd had to go away, and just like he had tried for Kelly, he wanted to make things better for her, for Ziva, and in that moment he had loved her as he had Kelly. He had loved her as he had a daughter. And now he faced losing an agent, a friend and an almost daughter. His emotions were still tangled. He joined the rest of the team-his family, her family- in the waiting room.

Tony sat in the waiting room with everyone else, listening to the doctor but not exactly following. He'd have to ask Ducky what the doctor meant later. All he'd heard was that they were going to take her off life support; either she'd be ok, her body still damaged but otherwise ok, or her brains would be curdled and she'd kick the bucket. Either way it meant pain for someone; physical pain for her or emotional pain for them. He'd tuned out for a moment, and heard the music playing softly in the background, the song that had been driving him insane earlier.

**Don't you worry about the distance**

**I'm right there if you get lonely**

**Give this song another listen**

**Close your eyes**

**Listen to my voice it's my disguise  
I'm by your side…**

The whole team was there when they pulled the plug. Abby was sandwiched between Ducky and Gibbs, both of whom had their arms around her, and Tim was behind her, rubbing her back. Jen stood next to her friend, holding her hand and whispering softly in clumsy Hebrew. Tony stood back, alone and in the shadows. The doctors and nurses bustled around her, withdrawing the IV's that had kept her in the induced coma and ready with an assortment of syringes and small bottles of god only knew. Then they waited. After what seemed like days but was really only an hour or so Jen gasped as she felt her hand being squeezed. Gibbs ran for a doctor as Ziva woke up and tried to breathe on her own. The breathing apparatus was withdrawn, and an oxygen mask placed over her face.

She had no idea what had happened or how long she'd been out for. She vaguely remembered another car … obviously she'd been pretty sick, seeing as Abby was now sobbing into Gibb's shoulder, McGee was staring at her with a goofy grin, and Jen mumbling a good luck prayer in Hebrew - very badly, she might add. She closed her eyes for a moment, the light being too much to bear and stars flickering before her eyes. She tried to move her hand to rub her eyes, but her limbs were too heavy, and her mind still too numb… doped up, she deduced. She squinted at them all, and, using all the strength she had, smiled. Everyone was there but Tony. Then she saw him emerge from the shadows in the corner of the room, blinking his eyes very forcefully and deliberately as if to reassure himself that she was there and alive. He grinned, and gently touching her free hand, and greeted her with "Hey there Delilah".


End file.
